Thursday, August 25, 2011

I settled down with a man
   who settled down
But
   truth be told
I'm a flat stone,
A skipping stone
   looking for a body of water
   to throw this body into.


A scent of a storm
   looking to roll over
   mountain and vale
Rattling the window as I go.


An eye on the horizon
   full of tearful sunsets
   sleeping in strange sounds
   of unfamiliar places at night.


A view to somewhere else
   that I can't get to from here.

A wanderer in my heart stuck at home.
A wanderer in my soul
   looking for a way to go.


There's comfort in staying in place.
The two of us circling one another in our ways,
   plans made and discarded,
   delayed gratification of "someday".


We didn't mean to settle
   and certainly gained more for the bargain
   from each other.


We are here
   the "X" on the map,
Plotting our little strategies
   with maps and pins
Writing escape plans
   tattooed on each other.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Late Summer Storm

The sky is turning orange then purple announcing the arrival of this storm that has had a promise of coming all day. The leaves turning back on themselves my grandfather said was always a sure tell of a coming storm. The wind is up and it is here now in it's thunder and lightening. I love thunder storms, they make me feel so alive. And it is good to be alive. I even have corroboration. It came in the form of a few words on paper. A CT scan report in the post from a recent scan of my head, neck and body. The report shows no cancer. Of course this is what I've been saying all along but it certainly is nice to get validation!


There are many storms in life and so many unexpected influences but I like to think that the magic of the unpredictable is the food of life. Sometimes sweet, sometimes sour but always curious. So much can define us that we are not aware of.


The storm passes to a distant soundtrack over other houses and I am glad that it came by. The cat wants out now that it has stopped raining. I will sleep now and breathe slowly and dream. Tomorrow I will get another new day all bright and fresh with promise.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011





















This afternoon started making marks on a new abstract tree painting.  It is a tree up the street that never dropped its seeds.  They hung on the tree like an opaque chandelier.  This may look a bit confusing, just marks, but it is a good beginning.  Its not supposed to make sense.  Hopefully though, when finished it will have a nice composition and the viewer might see all sorts of shapes and things in the marks.  Stay tuned!
Beauty overwhelms
   in green so lush as to stifle,
The scent of summer on the brink of burning
  and carried off by migratory birds.


What language it speaks we hardly know.
Beauty is so vast and relentless
   in its constant desire.


I want to be taken down by its upheaval.
Completely consumed and removed,
   replaced by a vision
   so wondrous,
A vibrant violent comet smear of colour!

Legs don't fail me now!

While I love being back to work painting i'm chagrined at my limitations, especially in my legs. From the waist up I feel strong and quite vocal about it. My "pins", however don't seem to have much longitude. After a few hours on my feet it feels like I'm being restricted in my legs. It's some kind of fluid build up?

The doctor wants to take a needle and remove some of this fluid. Firstly I'm curious to know why this fluid is present? Secondly, I suppose they'll have to test the fluid once drawn to see If there are any "gremlins" present?!

Of course I'm keeping my own council on these things. I don't plan on going back on chemo until I'm quite old and crotchety, if ever! This is just another pebble on the road.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

late summer musing


I'm happy to report that I've completed another painting, "Late Day Light". It was just a passing image I captured while driving home from my friend's house out in the fields of Lenawee County, MI. The countryside is mostly flat farmland with islands of farmhouses and old trees breaking up the constancy of rows and rows of plantings, corn mostly and soya beans.




This image intriqued me as a slice of time, that late day magical light just before sunset when the day vibrates before the quieting of night. I added to it the simple mystery of bubbles, transitory in their own existence like a moment of time. Magic lingers in small moments remembered.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Late night collage making when I should be going to sleep.  

I marvel at the way my body heals.  I marvel at being alive.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

prose

While searching through old journals and sketchbooks I found some prose that seems still breathing to me, still alive after long years of time passing over the pages of faded memory.  I had forgotten that I used to write my own kind of poetry or prose.  It surprises me that I forgot this once furtive activity!  What follows is a sampling, not in any particular order.

8 Sept. 2010

And what I was,
was as a view, a place,
a dream I hung unto
beyond reason.

The colour of the water
when the sun went down
beyond the bridge, the golden gate.

The stream that gave out to a marsh.
The footpath that was lost.
The mist that obscured the path but led
down a different road.

High above, the cliff and the wind
upon which I cast the never ending
dream of myself.
Remember me.



27 October 2010

I’ve learned how to be
in the moment
and not worry about what’s to come,

To be riveted to you
in your eyes and the feel of your smile.

Otherwise I must be
of the world of
measurements and judgements,
Go this way, not that,
Stay on time, rise and shine.

There are only the feelings,
large and small,
the simple moments,
maneuvers and accomplishments,
smiles and tears and
the beginning and end of it all.


10 February 2011

I make art to regain my self worth
from the child that was taught she was worthless.


24 November 2010

Wrap me up in
the vision of
that harsh
landscape of home.
It is a tonic for me.

Falling down to sky,
rolling down the brae,
washing my soul in mud
and trodding on the bones
of my past.



24 December 1988

Clash of cultures,
clash of the absurd
that burden down the masses
like a town of fools,
like a crowd of children
following a clown
through a mine field.



27 January 1989

Fierce independence
is a way around
lonliness.



28 January 1989

Home,
Here,
The shadowy dwelling
of a memory.

Retold like stories
from a stranger’s past,
Not mine.

The pictures are of someone else
called childhood!



6 April 1989

Try to talk,
think through my hands,
the pen of personality.

The resulting storm
an accident of words
stumbling over themselves,
trying to stand up
to an uncertain point of view.


Friday, August 5, 2011

Love is a busy week

Love is a busy week with friends that i've asked to play me, on site in someone's home, to get work done while I am a whisper in their ear to give instruction about what to do. But "what to do" like "how to love" is up to each and every individual so I know that my friends will do a good job on their own. They don't need me to mind them. We'll all benefit with a few coppers in our pockets from this project.

It represents, for me a start back to work at commissions in people's homes. It's also a push for me to see how far I can stretch my legs. I've currently been know to succumb to napping, something I would never have done in the past! This new me will be different and I must learn who she is. While I may wish to revert back to old habits I will now have to learn to stumble, then walk before running!

As usual, though I get excited by ideas in art or in how to go about doing things.  What I need is to slow down and not be in such a hurry to run off that cliff!  Perhaps give up a bit of brawn for a bit of wisdom and the bouyant love that surrounds me.  I stubbornly want to do it all but, perhaps there is nothing wrong with letting others do for me while I invent a different kind of painting world.  One where I'll have lots of time and imagination to last a lifetime!